Page 82 of Wicked Little Game
When Mr. Barron was here the last time, he had said thathe’d leave for longer, but it’s been almost three weeks by now, so he could return any day.
I shove that thought away as I look over to Ruby, who’s focused on playing Mario Kart. I put her down on the couch after I had her pussy for lunch. I made her cum twice and cry once, and I sincerely prefer it when the reason for her tears is overstimulation.
She’s wrapped up in her blanket while I feel like melting, even though I’m just wearing shorts. She’s a weird little thing.
“Hey,” I say as I walk up to her and she tilts her head back to look at me while Yoshi drives over a banana peel.
I clutch the small parcel in my hand a bit tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that this was a stupid idea. Stupid isn’t even the right word to describe it. It’s outright ridiculous, but her eyes are already set on my hands and now there’s no way out.
“Got something for you,” I say out as I throw the soft package toward her. “It’s nothing big, but I just had to get something for you after you bought me a goddamn gun.”
With every passing second, I regret this more and more. My present is way too cheap, especially for someone like Ruby. Ruby, whose handbag collection costs more than a down payment for a house.
“For me?” she gasps, looking at me with big eyes.
Ferociously, she rips the plastic wrapper apart, uncovering the black t-shirt that’s hidden underneath.
“It’s really nice,” she says with a polite smile as she looks at the plain black fabric. “So soft.”
“God, Iknowyou’re smart, but you can be really dense sometimes, you know that?” I yank the shirt out of her hand with a sigh and turn it around.
She makes a face, but then she looks at the print on the shirt.
My favorite dipshit
She doesn’t say a word and I wish for the floor to open up and just swallow me whole so that I don’t have to endure this embarrassment any longer. That’s what I get for thinking I have a good idea.
But then she climbs over the backrest of the couch, latching onto me like an orphaned monkey. She hugs me so tightly that I’m worried for my ribs as I hold her up with one hand, the other one still holding the shirt.
“Thank you,” she chuckles, nuzzling her face into my neck. “That’s honestly the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
“Better than a Birkin?” I ask, struggling to believe her.
This can’t be the first time she got a weird present, and I bet she perfected the polite thank you over the years.
“Way better,” she says, and for a fraction of a second, it seems as if she wants to add something. Instead, she places at least one hundred kisses all over my face, ignoring it when I tell her she has to wash the shirt before wearing it.
Later that day, I finally get her to wash it, but once it’s dry, she’s wearing it again as if it really is the best thing someone ever gave her.
I also kind of moved into her room a few days ago. We spend every free minute together anyway and her enormous bed gives us even more space to roll around in the sheets than the one over in my room.
I think I tired her out properly because she seems to be fast asleep, her back pressed against me, and I try to focus on the rise and fall of her chest while I stare out the window.
Rockwell wasn’t happy when I told him what had happened. I think it was the first time he almost lashed out at me through all those years. But after I reassured him that Ruby was on board with our plan, he calmed down.
He messaged me with the news that Sanders was delightedupon hearing about the possibility that we are going to get the people who are at a pay level above Mr. Barron.
I bet that asshole is already waiting for his promotion when he makes it seem like this was his doing all along. I’ll happily take that fucking humiliation because it means that I get to spend more time with Ruby. But with every tick of the clock, I’m reminded that our time is almost over.
I thought about staying. But the rational part of my brain tells me that this would be rushed and also overboard.
Maybe all of this is like those flings you have on holiday as a teenager. The girl that you meet during the summer camp your local church organized for the kids that aren’t well off, thinking that she’s the love of your life and you’re going to die after those very intense two weeks but then camp is over and you go back to school and slowly but surely, the memory fades.
Maybe it’s going to be the same with Ruby. Just one hundred times worse.
I wish I could also sleep as soundly as she does, but the silence leaves me to deal with my own thoughts as I’m lying in her bed. I wonder where I took the wrong turn for things to end up like this. But maybe, just maybe, I finally did something right.
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